


The Pain of Sin

by Corycides



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hiatus Prompt Fic, One-Shot, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora Clayton believed in the Rebels, she believed that their cause was right, but sometimes that didn't make it any easier to deal with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pain of Sin

Nora Clayton was good at blowing things up. She had a knack, a controlled pyromaniac’S fondness for the the fear and the fire, and a mean old woman in Texas had shown her how to mix up nitro and braid her own fuses.

‘Always have a trade to fall back on,’ the old lady had said in her cracked, hard voice. ‘It means you always have the option of saying “fuck the lot of you” and taking off.’

It kept them fed, kept them safe, put money in their pockets. Now it might be going to blow up everything Nora cared about.

‘You didn’t tell me-’

She stopped, biting her lip until it stung. Any of the words she could line up to finish that sentence sounded childish, naive. Graham was already looking at her with that mildly paternal pity. Like she was a neighbour’s kid who’d been stood up for prom.

‘Nora, he’s the enemy.’

She dragged her fingers through her hair and looked away. ‘I know. I just didn’t know we were...ready.’

He didn’t say anything. When she looked back at him, pity had turned into wariness in blood-shot grey eyes. Suspicion even - not of her commitment, but her emotions. She stiffened her back and lifted her chin.

‘I’ve no doubts.’

He spread big, work worn hands, hot pitch scars pitting his palms. ‘It can’t be easy.’

It should be. It was. Nora had to believe that. She believed in what they were doing, that hadn’t changed. It was just...he trusted her. He looked at her like she was special. No one had done that in a long time. She’d miss it.

‘It’s murder,’ she said. ‘It shouldn’t be easy - but it’s necessary. I should go. He’ll be looking for me.’

Graham nodded. He glanced around casually, scratching the side of his neck, and then fished a package from under his coat, passing it under the table. Death was surprisingly light when it was wrapped up in brown paper and string. He hung onto it.

‘If you don’t think you can do it...?’

She glared at him, making her eyes hard and her mouth a firm line. ‘I can.’

He let go. She tucked the bundle into her bag, reared back and slapped Graham across the face. Stubble and hard bones made her hand ache.

‘Dirty bastard,’ she snapped, bolting to her feet and knocking her chair enough. ‘I’m Matheson’s woman, not for the likes of you.’

Nora grabbed her drink and tossed it back - cheap gin burning the back of her throat. She stormed out of the inn, bag swinging with what felt like suspicious weight against her thighs.

She could do this.

* * *

 

Vomit scalded the back of Nora’s throat. She held her own hair back, knotted around her hand, as she puked into a bucket. The smell of blood and smoke filled her nose, mixing with the sourness of half-digested stew,

She’d not expected the screaming. Her other bombs...no-one innocent had been hurt. Not that she knew about. The cafe had been different. There had been a woman, screaming and bloody-faced as she was carried out of the rubble. A big shard of glass glittered from her eye.

Nora’s stomach rebelled again, spewing froth and bile past her lips.

‘Get up,’ Graham ordered gruffly. He dragged Nora to her feet, swiping a wet cloth over her face roughly. Nora coughed and spat, blinking and shoving at him.

‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘What are you doing?’

Graham dragged her borrowed jacket off, balling it up and tossing it to someone else to burn. He shoved a ball of her own clothes into her arms.

‘Get dressed,’ he said. His mouth was grim and his eyes disappointed. ‘We failed. They both survived - although Matheson is injured. You are too valuable to be outed.’

Nora hugged her clothes to her chest and felt...happy, relieved. She shoved the feelings away angrily, letting in the cold, leaden weight of dread. Go back?

‘I can’t,’ she protested, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. ‘I tried to kill them.’

‘They don’t know that. They won’t know that,’ Graham said grimly. ‘I’ll make sure of that. If we want to have another opportunity, we need to keep you close to them.’

She took a ragged breath, feeling like it scraped through glass in her chest. The thought of smiling at Miles, of letting him touch her, while she knew she’d nearly killed him...

‘I can’t do it,’ she admitted.

There was no sympathy in Graham’s face anymore.

‘You will. Or all those dead people are for nothing. It would be murder.’

It was already murder, Nora thought miserably. Couldn’t he see that? It didn’t matter. He shoved back into her clothes and pushed her out the door, her cover story already taking shape.

She didn’t realise how Graham was going to cover her tracks. If she had, she would have stopped him. Nora stood at the window with Miles, guilt hooked into her breastbone like a fishing weight, and watched the rough coffins paraded through the square. She would have confessed.

Miles took her hand, fingers weaving through hers and squeezing.

She would have. She was almost sure.

 


End file.
